Alternate Endings
by Harper Potts
Summary: Some alternate endings to Game of Thrones. These will be shorts, not full stories.
1. The Wheel

**The Wheel**

"We do it together," Daenerys urged. "We break the wheel together."

Jon had come to speak with her, to hear Daenerys defend her actions with her own words, but all she did was spout Targeryen madness. Conquer the entire world, a never-ending war, and herself above all others as the ultimate judge of right and wrong, willing to murder thousands.

He remembered the words of the man who would always be his father. The most honorable man he'd ever known. "The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword. If you would take a man's life, you owe it to him to look into his eyes and hear his final words. And if you cannot bear to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die."

He'd been fighting against what he had to do, but now he was certain. As they embraced he plunged his dagger into the heart of the Mad Queen. Death came swiftly she didn't even have any final words as the shock and betrayal in her eyes faded with her life. He lowered her gently to the floor as Drogon roared.

He'd know the great beast was smart, even smarter than Ghost, but this was magic. It knew. Somehow it knew and it was coming from him. He backed away from winged death as it landed, but instead it went to Daenerys and nuzzled her like a hound at its dead master. She'd called herself Mother of Dragons, and he knew the stories, but only now did he realize the full truth of them. Drogon mourned what was his mother in every way.

Jon dodged quickly as Drogon reared to breathe flame. He'd expected to feel the flames but instead the beast aimed at the throne. The damned throne that Daenerys had been telling stories about just minutes before. As the beast gently scooped up the Mother of Dragons and flew away, Jon realized that he'd still underestimated the creature's intelligence.

"You know nothing, Jon Snow," played once again in his mind. Ygritte. He should have stayed in that cave with her. He'd as good as killed her. Now his only other lover was dead at his own hand. Duty is the death of love. He should have loved Daenerys. That's all she'd asked of him. If he hadn't rejected her, if he hadn't left her alone and isolated when all closest to her turned their backs on her, would this have happened?

He still knew nothing. Sansa wanted him for the throne, as did Tyrion, but they would name him Queenslayer. He had become Jamie Lannister. What was left for him? He walked to the ledge where a dwindling speck in the sky was all that could be seen of the last dragon. Hundreds of feet below him lay the broken ruins of King's Landing

He stepped forward.

.oOo.

"Bran the Broken" came the votes one after another. It had been a surprising solution the Imp offered, but it suited. One after another they pledged until…

"The North will remain an independent kingdom, as it has for thousands of years," stated Sansa Stark.

"Fuck this then." Edmure Tully surged to his feet. "The Riverlands, or more properly, the Kingdom of the Rivers and the Hills, was an independent kingdom as well.. If the Seven Kingdoms are to be broken, then let them all be broken. I will not bend my knee to a Northman when even the North will not. I declare myself King of the Riverlands."

Yara Greyjoy stood as well. "And I am Queen of the Ironborn. If we are not one, we are seven."

And the wheel turned on.


	2. Mother of Dragons

**Mother of Dragons**

Jon felt less than comfortable as he visited Daenerys in her chambers. Varys had attempted to betray his queen. The eunuch had even sounded him out and encouraged him to turn on her. He had refused, but he had said nothing. If he had said something, would it have mattered? Maybe not, but the fact that he had said nothing. That did matter. It had been his duty to say something, and he'd done nothing.

The execution itself had been gruesome, but all executions were awful. Varys had more than earned it. Treason could not be tolerated. Daenerys had even conducted the execution honorably. The one who passed the sentence should be the one who swung the blade. She had used Drogon's flame, but he was just a weapon in her hand. Jon had never been comfortable carrying out executions, but as with the ones he had done, it had been necessary.

Daenerys didn't look well. She was visibly distraught when she turned to him. "What did I say would happen if you told your sister?"

"I don't want it, and that's what I told him." Which was truth, but it had also been treason. He had failed her by saying nothing, and it shamed him. She had also been right about telling Sansa, and that shamed him as well.

"She killed Varys as much as I did. This was a victory for her. Now she knows what happens when people hear the truth about you. Far more people in Westeros love you than love me. I don't have love here. I only have fear."

"I love you, and you will always be my queen."" The words felt wooden in his mouth. They were true, but he hadn't loved her enough not to tell Sansa and Arya, even when she had begged him. She'd been right, he'd been wrong, and his sister had broken her sworn word. Now the distance between him and Daenerys had grown farther.

"Is that all I am to you? Your queen?"

No, but they could never be. Daenerys wanted to be queen as much as she wanted to breathe. Her ambition was naked, but honest. He could never be by her side. All he could do was sigh in frustration.

"All right then, I took you for a man of honor. I never thought you would be the kind of man to abandon the mother of your child."

He felt like he'd been punched in the gut. "My child?"

"Our child. You do not know how children are made? Or do you think I dally with every man who pleases my eye?"

"I…" What? "You…" He bowed his head. "You were right about Sansa. I was wrong. Now I can never be by your side. Always there will be men like Varys who think I should rule, that a king is more natural than a queen, that distrust your being an outsider from Essos, when I am at least of Westeros. Men who just think I would be easier to control. Always they will seek to turn us against each other. I can't be by your side any longer, but I will always serve you. You will always be my queen, and more, inside my heart."

"That was your reason?" She looked incredulous.

Jon nodded miserably. There was also that she was his aunt, which had bothered him a little, but she didn't feel like his aunt, and truly that didn't matter any longer. Her naked ambition troubled him… Yet, she had been right time and again. When it mattered the most she'd put her life and dragons on the line and she'd done it for him. It was time for him to be there for her and his child. "I'll be right behind you always."

She sighed and smiled. "You wonderful, foolish man. You will be my consort, my husband in all but name. Always in the shadow, except when we're alone."

He felt hope surge inside him. "And that will work? You said we would never be?" And he had understood, she would allow nothing between her and the throne and they could never wed.

"Not like we could have been. You will have to always defer to me in every way in public. We could have been almost equal."

But? That was better. "I accept. I never wanted to rule." He knelt down. "I will follow you always, one step behind. Yours in everything."

Daenerys laughed, joy dancing in her eyes. She grabbed his hand and tugged him up. "Kiss me already."

.oOo.

Riding on the back of Drogon in the sky above King's Landing, she heard the bells begin to toll. For a brief moment she considered razing the city anyway. The Seven Kingdoms would never love her, but Jon did and that was enough. Her hand drifted south to her belly, and she would be the mother of her own dragons.


	3. Humility and Patience - Part 1

**Humility and Patience, part 1**

(Tyrion manages to give Daenerys good advice)

Tyrion hated Dragonstone. It was cold, drafty and worst of all it had more stairs than even the Red Keep. Juggling three bottles of wine didn't make all the steps even easier, but he had to speak with his queen. Events had conspired against him speaking to her before now.

He had taken a different ship from her when they'd sailed from White Harbor for Dragonstone. The Whitecap was smaller and faster, but he'd made more stops: Oldcastle, Sisterton, Coldwater, and other piddly little holds in the Fingers. Contrary to popular belief ravens weren't magic. They only flew home. They had to be carried in carts back across Westeros to the various holds. Lacking ravens he had been unable to recruit the support of Westeros nobility and troops that he had promised Daenerys. Cersei had allowed them some ravens, but they would all fly to her in King's Landing. Even she wasn't stupid enough to relay his messages to their enemies. He'd sent out ravens from Dragonstone, but other than Dorne and the Iron Islands the results had been less than promising. Along with collecting ravens from the minor holds, he'd also made the point of collecting wandering minstrels. That had been Varys idea, not his, but spreading the word of the defeat of the Night King and the key role Daenerys and her dragons played in it, could only help her acceptance.

All of which meant he'd missed the clusterfuck of a naval battle that happened when Euron Greyjoy's fleet ambushed Daenerys and her fleet off the shores of Dragonstone. As far as he was concerned destroying Euron's fleet hadn't been worth losing Rhaegal. The news that Missandei was still counted among the missing might be just as crushing a blow. She had been a good influence on Daeneyrs, calming her and supporting her without question. Daeneyrs was difficult to advise at the best of times, and these were among the worst.

Thus, the wine. He nodded to the Unsullied by the door and knocked. After exchanging a few hushed words with one of Daeneyrs's handmaidens and waiting a few moments he was admitted.

"We need to talk. I brought wine."

"I don't need wine to talk. Or to drown my sorrows in." Most of the times Daeneyrs wore a mask of calm, but this evening the mask was cracked, and he saw the rage and despair shining through. "I asked to be left alone."

"I know." He set the three bottles of wine down. "You once asked me why I killed my father. I told you that I would tell you someday, but we would need more wine. It's time for me to tell that story."

Daenerys frowned at that, but she nodded and sat down. "Very well. Why did you kill your father?"

Tyrion hoisted himself into the chair and made to pour the wine, but one of her handmaidens intervened and did the pouring. He did make sure she got it right. The bottle of cloyingly sweet wine for Daeneyrs. She loved the wines of Essos and the sweeter the better. The other two bottles were for him, winter wine form the North. Dry and strengthened by winter when the water froze and was skimmed off making the wine potent and heady.

He drank deeply. He'd need the wine to get through this. "Her name was Tysha."

It was difficult telling the story, how he and Jamie had met her on a lonely road outside Lannisport as she was being accosted by some men. How Jamie had driven them off, but he had comforted her. He spoke of their wedding and their short days of happiness in their little cottage by the sea. How Jamie had come to him and told him that Tysha was nothing but a whore and he had staged the whole encounter just to make Tyrion a man. How his father had let all the men in his barracks take turns with her, paying her a silver each. That Tywin had forced him to go last and paid her a gold coin, because Lannisters were worth more.

He had finished the first bottle of winter wine with the telling. The story wasn't over yet, but it was working. Daenerys had finished her first glass, and he could tell she was drawn in by the pain in his words. His plan was working. It was nothing but foolishness to try to be strong against Daenerys. She reacted to strength by challenging it with her own. It was also a failing of his to lecture others on what seemed so obvious to him. Trying to imply she was being foolish without outright saying it, just infuriated her as well. The way to approach her was weakness. When he first joined her service, he'd had to humble himself to reach her. Now, he bared his soul for her to get her to listen.

He opened the second bottle drank deep and unveiled the bitter truth. "It was a lie. Jamie confessed to me when he set me free before my scheduled execution. She wasn't a whore. Father forced Jamie to lie. She was nothing but what she seemed. An innocent crofter's daughter beset upon the roads. Her love had been real. I did nothing while my father's men raped her, then I took my turn and cast her aside."

"You didn't know." There were no tears on Daenery's face, but her eyes were moist. "It was your father's doing. His is the blame. What happened to her?"

"I asked my father that, just before I put a crossbow bolt through him. He said she went 'wherever whores go'." He sighed. "My queen, you are a good person. You are aptly named Breaker of Chains. You care for the little people. You will make a good queen over all the Seven Kingdoms, because you will rule for all the people, not just the nobles, but the people don't know you and they need more time. Please, I beg of you, turn from this plan to assault King's Landing. Time is on your side. Be patient and all the Seven Kingdoms will bow to you."

"How has that worked so far? You promised me allies, where are they?" Her words were soft, questioning, not accusing.

He wanted to sigh in relief. She was listening. He controlled himself and spoke slowly and gently. "Dorne and the Ironborn have already declared for you. Jon Snow and the North bent the knee. The rest have been slow to reply, but we don't control the ravens. Most go through King's Landing or the Citadel. Cersei won't relay messages and no one trusts the Citadel not to read what passes through their hands. It also takes time to restock on ravens and Cersei hasn't been letting that happen."

"And what do you propose?"

He took a deep breath. "Lay siege to King's Landing. Surround it. With Euron's fleet destroyed you can control both the land and the sea. Instead of taking on Cersei first, use that time to visit the Riverlands, the Eyrie, and the Reach. Don't give them the easy choice of swearing to a queen on the throne of King's Landing. Force them to pick sides when you don't yet have the throne. If they side with Cersei, you know your enemies. Go to Casterly rock. I don't want it. Neither does Jamie. Don't put another Lannister on the throne. The Lannisters abandoned it. People don't like being thrown away. Choose one of the minor houses and put them in charge of the Rock. Make them declare for you. Let Cersei rot and starve in King's Landing, while you gather an army of all the Seven Kingdoms."

He looked her in the eye. "My queen, Rhaegal was not worth Cersei's fleet. Drogon is worth a hundred times as much. Cersei will have scorpions and it only takes one lucky shot. Times have changed since Aegon the Conqueror took the entire seven kingdoms with just three dragons. I won't deny that dragons are devastating in war, but you can't turn back time. Your enemies will all have scorpions. Use Drogon in battle but use him wisely. Attack men in the field where they cannot mass scorpions."

Daenerys stared at him silently for a long time, but finally spoke. "There is wisdom in your words. I didn't want to hear them, but forcing them to choose before I take the throne will flush out our enemies. Now that we control the seas, Cersei is pinned down. It is best to be patient."

He sighed in relief. There was hope, but now he had more bad news to deliver.


	4. Humility and Patience - Part 2

**Humility and Patience – Part 2**

(Daenerys listens to advice)

Tyrion could feel the winter wine working its way on him. He welcomed its touch. Wine made his tongue crass, but less prone to lecturing. Daenerys didn't take lectures from anyone. He needed to approach this next conversation as carefully as he had unchained her dragons.

"Your grace, there's something you need to know."

She studied him for a long moment and the look of sorrow returned to her face. "Someone has betrayed me."

"Yes," admitted Tyrion. There should have been no way for anyone else to know unless Sansa had approached others and she already knew. No, there was a sense of resignation about Daenerys, like she had seen this coming.

"Jon Snow."

"No," said Tyrion shocked. Even if Sansa's story was true, Jon lived, breathed, and shit honor. "Sansa Stark. She told me that Jon was not Ned Stark's bastard. She claimed he was the son of Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen, and his birthname was Aegon Targaryen."

"She knows the truth." Resignation clung to her like dreary dampness clung to Dragonstone.

Tyrion's thoughts spun as he linked together who knew the secret: Sansa, Bran, and Arya Stark, plus Samwell Tarly, that left… "Jon told you."

"He did. Sansa learned from Jon, though I begged him not to tell her."

As long as he had known Daenerys she had always had a purpose about her, a sense of her own destiny. That was often good. She inspired people to the point that some almost worshiped her. Ruling was often choosing between two equally bad choices and the only worse choice was doing nothing. Daenerys didn't falter at those tough decisions. Never had he seen her look so lost or vulnerable.

"As I said he betrayed me," she concluded.

"He trusted his sister. The same mistake that I made. Families make fools of us all." While he had known of the not so well-hidden affair between Daenerys and Jon, he hadn't known she felt this strongly about him. The solution was so obvious, but he had to tread gently. Perhaps address the other question. "Are you so certain it is true?"

"Oh yes, I felt it from the moment I met him, but I didn't recognize it." Her presence firmed as some of her usual determination returned to her. "Blood calls to blood. I felt the same connection to my brother, Viserys. There is a presence to him. Do you think Rhaegal would have let just anyone ride him? He is Targaryen. Not that it matters. The rumors alone would undo me. The people love him, they'll want him for the throne."

Tyrion bit back a laugh. "The people don't choose their kings and queens. I know the people of Meereen rose up for you, but the little people of Westeros are different. They are tired of war. Tired of sending their sons off to battle for whoever has their butt on the throne. Tired of having their daughters raped by soldiers on all sides. Most of all they would just like to have full bellies and not worry they'll get their throats slit in the middle of the night. You will bring order to chaos and for that they'll accept you. In time they you will their hearts. Do you know why?"

"No, why?"

"Because you give a shit about them. You'll listen to them as you did in Meereen and do things like build roads so traders come and sewers so there isn't shit piled up in the streets. You won't tax them so much they starve. You will hold nobles accountable to their oaths. In a few years the common folk will line the roads and scream your name as you ride past." Maybe he was painting it a bit thick, but the people had screamed as much for Robert Baratheon. It would just take time.

She smiled weakly. "Good. So, what would you suggest I do about Sansa Stark and Jon Snow, my hand? Do you counsel patience a third time?"

"No. You will need to act." Now, it was time to ask the obvious. "If you feel for him, why not marry him? That would solve everything."

"Everything? Let's set aside that he betrayed me for now. I'll take your word about the people needing time, but the nobles will reject me. "Too many know already, it will spread and he has the superior claim. I may not be as well read as you, but I know my family's history. The Dance of the Dragons started when Aegon the Second's followers couldn't stand to see his sister Rhaenyra crowned. She had the better claim, but the Andals couldn't bear a woman on the throne. Even once I wear the crown, they will want him."

"Fuck the nobles!" Tyrion threw back his head and laughed. "Forgive me, my grace, but that is the funniest thing I've heard today. I thought you wanted the throne and were willing to do what it takes to claim it. The noble houses were never going to love you. You are the widow of a Dothraki khal, you're the mother of dragons, sacker of cities, and freer of slaves. You have too much of Essos about you, a foreign invader. You're Aegon the Conqueror reborn, but with teats. They're quaking in their boots with fear. Of course, the nobles resent you. You have a dragon and that trumps all their fancy titles. Marrying Jon would settle the matter of his claim."

"And crown him king?"

It was all he could do not to roll his eyes. "No, and crown you queen. We'll call him the Prince Consort or something like that. Have him forswear the throne and swear oaths about it. Jon Snow is an honorable man, and that sort swoon like girls to swear fearsome oaths. Have him swear to love, honor, protect, basically everything a Kingsguard would swear, except let him bed you. Or let you bed him whichever way that wind blows. Have him swear in the Weirwood and combine it with the marriage ceremony. That will stomp down on talk of putting him on your throne after that. Especially in the North. Hmm, maybe you should wed twice. Once in the north in the Weirwood and again in the South in a church. Honor both traditions that way."

Daenerys pursed her lips. The indecision looked odd on her face. "You make it sound so simple, but won't they always go behind my back, talk to him, try to tear us apart? Or try to assassinate me to put him on the throne?"

"My grace, that's just politics as usual, but Jon is stuffed full of honor, place him over your Queensguard. He's not a knight, but treat him like one. Always at your side, watching for enemies. From what I know of Jon that would please him. He didn't even want to be King of the North. He doesn't want the throne of the whole Seven Kingdoms, but leading a small group of noble men to protect you, strutting about, being honorable and all dour, that he could do. It would just cement your reputation that such an honorable hero served you without question."

"The problem with that being that he does not serve without question. I begged him not to tell his sisters and he refused me."

"You begged him, but did you command him?" This was a shot in the dark, but it felt right.

"No, I did not, because I… care for him. I didn't want to command him."

"You're the queen. You can care for him, but when the hard decisions have to be made you make them and he follows. Your mistake lay in asking him." Tyrion cursed his tongue and tensed. He shouldn't have called it a mistake. He pressed on before she took offense. "Do you think queens dispute their kings? If you want to ask and beg, let him take the throne. If you want to rule, you don't have equals."

"I need to time think upon this. Leave me."

Tyrion wondered if he had pushed too far. "Yes, your grace." He climbed out of the chair and turned to leave.

"Tyrion," she called after him. "In the morning I want your advice on what to do about Sansa Stark."

He turned back to her and bowed. "Of course, your grace."

Then she smiled at him and it transformed her face, letting her beauty shine through her pain. "And thank you, my Hand."


	5. Dragon Dreams

**Dragon Dreams**

"There have always been Targaryens who dreamed of things to come, since long before the Conquest."  
—Brynden Rivers, The Mystery Knight

Alone in her bed Daenerys of the House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, The Unburnt, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men, Queen of Meereen, Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, Protector of the Realm, Lady Regent of the Seven Kingdoms, Breaker of Chains and Mother of Dragons tossed and turned in a cold sweat gripped by nightmares. Missandei's brutal and cruel death played over and over along with her final wish, "Dracarys."

She was Drogon, mighty and powerful, diving out of the sky with the sun to his back and laying waste the to Euron's fleet. She soared up into the air, powerful and mighty and then swooped down on King's Landing and cleared the walls. Bolts from scorpions sought her out, but she was far too nimble a target. She blasted down the gates and her troops surged in putting the defenders to the sword as she continued clearing the parapets.

She pulled back so as not burn her own troops and idled in the sky drifting on the currents when the bells began to toll. We surrender called the bells. Mercy pleaded the bells. Spare us they begged. Yet, the doors to the Red Keep remained sealed. It was only the bells in the city that rang. Cersei, the Usurper, still refused to yield.

"Dracarys," proclaimed Missandei, the sweet and innocent child of Naath passing judgement. Let them all burn in dragonfire!

She dove upon the city, her wings beating and rained down fire and death, again and again, and again. She tore down the Red Keep, set fire to the entire city and felt nothing but righteous satisfaction.

Men, women, and children cried in the streets, and she felt regret, but it was too late now. The only way was forward. Her brother Viserys walked through the city unburnt. "They woke the dragon! They woke the dragon! Let them burn! Let the whole world burn!"

And then she was standing before her armies proclaiming victory and a never-ending war. Her armies swept forth under the banner of the Dragon Queen. Westeros burned, but it didn't quench the pain inside her. Jorah gone. Missandei gone. Varys and Tyrion both betrayed her. She saw a grim John Snow turn his back on her and walking away to the lands beyond the wall.

She crossed the narrow sea bringing her crusade to break the wheel to Essos and burned cities one after another, but it wasn't enough. Her armies marched on. They came to an island with sparkling white beaches and lush jungles. Like so many before, the natives wouldn't bow, so she burned them as well. Afterwards, as she walked through the burned-out shell of a village, she saw the corpse of a woman who could have been Missandei's sister. Only then did she realize that this was the isle of Naath.

"No!" she screamed as she woke from the nightmare. "No!"

As her handmaidens tried to comfort her, she reviewed the warning from the dream. She had been steeling herself to destroy King's Landing, but the warning from her dream made it clear that was the wrong choice. That wouldn't break the wheel. She would only become the wheel. Missandei would be avenged, but only Cersei along with the nobles who supported her had to burn. The people where like Missandei. They were Cersei's slaves and she would break their chains, not burn them for having no little to no choice.

"Enough," she shushed her handmaidens. "It was a nightmare. I am well. Prepare me for the day. There is much that I must do."


	6. Humility and Patience - Part 3

**Humility and Patience – Part 3  
**(A crazy thing called talking.)

Daenerys had little trouble finding her troops. She simply followed the Kingsroad until she found thousands of troops marching in formation. From above her armies seemed so small compared to the size of Westeros. She leaned into Drogon directing him to make a low pass over her troops. The Dothraki cheered, the Unsullied saluted, but the Northerners almost panicked. She landed on a nearby hilltop dismissed Drogo and walked down to join them.

Less than an hour later she sat upon a chair in a hastily erected pavilion and met with the leaders of her army: Jon Snow and Grey Worm, four of her surviving Kahls, plus some of the lords of the North and the Vale that had pledged to her. Quickly she informed them of the outcome of the naval battle. Cersei's fleet had been destroyed, but Rhaegal was dead.

"The situation has changed. We control the seas. While one or two scorpions pose little threat to a dragon, the battle of Dragonstone proved that my dragons are vulnerable." At least in mass numbers and given clear skies. Daenerys was still weighing the possibility of at least strafing the walls on an overcast or moonless night. "Until I can hatch more dragons, I am reluctant to risk Drogon in an assault on King's Landing."

Only Grey Worm and her Unsullied guards were unmoved by her mention of more dragons. Fat Lord Manderly was the loudest his cry of "She can hatch more?!" carried over the whoops of her Khals.

She directed her gaze to Manderly as if he was the only one there. "Yes, I can. I am the Mother of Dragons."

She knew it wouldn't be easy. Her followers had scoured Dragonstone already and found none, but there were surely more dragon eggs in the world. She could acquire some with time and money. Capturing a magician of sufficient power would also be a challenge, and the sacrifice would have to be done in secret, probably in Essos. The Red Temple was no stranger to human sacrifice. They had already aided her in both Meereen and Winterfell. Not that she wasn't going to explain the details to these men. She merely wanted to impress the possibility of more dragons upon them, start the rumors. It would hearten her allies and discourage many from moving against her, yet it did run the risk that some might seek to strike before she could hatch and grow more dragons.

"However, not overnight. It will take time. Since we now control the seas and have the troops to control the lands, I want you to lay siege to King's Landing. There is no need to hurry. Starve them out if necessary."

That led to many questions and a long discussion about the strategies and logistics to a siege. She listened but only stepped in when that started talking about ladders and battering rams. "No, surround and wait, by all means make the catapults and toss rocks at the walls, but hold off the assault. Now, I need to speak with Grey Worm and Jon Snow."

It took time for them to shuffle out, but finally it was just the three of them. She stood up from her chair and walked to Grey Worm. "There was one more loss that I didn't tell the rest. We lost ships in the battle to their scorpions. Missandei was lost at sea. She meant a lot to me, but I know she meant more to you. She loved you. I wanted to tell you myself."

Grey Worm stood still at attention, but his face hardened and he nodded to her.

"She also told me about her dream of returning to Naath and that you said that you would go with her. I wanted you to be my general, the leader of my armies, but if you still want to leave after we deal with Cersei, you may go with my blessing. Whether you go or not, I want to send the Unsullied to Naath in her name – not to extend my rule. I would like to let the Unsullied who are injured or no longer wish to fight for me to have a place to live the rest of their lives without war. I believe that Naath would be such a place, and if it means Missandei's people are protected as well, then it is the least I can do in her memory."

"You honor her memory." Grey Worm gave the stiff-arm Unsullied salute with his spear in hand. "I will fight for you in her memory and for your dream of breaking the wheel. When I am too old or too injured to fight anymore, then I will go to Naath, and I will honor the dream I had with Missandei."

She nodded at his decision. "Leave us now, make sure there are none but Unsullied close by. I would words with Jon Snow in private."

Grey Worm nodded, saluted and silently left leaving her alone in the tent with Jon.

She studied the man she loved. There was an awkward distance between them, and the root of it was his Targaryen heritage and claim to the throne. Unfortunately, neither of them were handling it well. Jon was staring down, not at her breasts but just avoiding her gaze. It was up to her to force the issue.

"Your sister, Sansa, has betrayed me as I warned you that she would. She approached Tyrion and suggested that you would be better suited for the throne. She sounded him out for working against me to place you on the Iron throne."

Other than freezing in place, Jon showed no reaction.

She waited to see if he would offer any defense, or even say anything at all, but he might as well have been carved from stone. "You have nothing to say? To conspire against your sworn liege is treason. Tell me, what is the penalty for treason?"

"Death," he whispered.

She whipped out her hand and slapped him across his face. "That's it? Have you lost your tongue? I warned you! I begged you! You refused me. Now I've been proven right and you say nothing. Do you want me to kill her?"

He winced, but still stood there. "Please don't. I'm sure she didn't mean it that way."

She slapped him across the other cheek. "Don't lie to me. She meant it. You know she did! She wants a free North and wants me out the way. She would rather have you on the throne. It told you this would happen and you stand there. What happened to the man I fell in love with? The man who rode dragons, the man who fought White Walkers, have you become a coward that you cannot speak to me?"

Finally his cold reserve broke and hot anguished words poured from his lips. "What would you have me say?! You were right. I was wrong. The Sansa I knew had flaws, but she was never an oathbreaker. She swore to me in front of the Weirwood tree. That's as solemn an oath as there is for a Northerner. I knew she had doubts about you, but I trusted her. I trusted my sister."

"And what would you have me do with her?"

"I don't know. Spare her, please, for my sake, and for the sake of the North, because if you kill her they may very well rise in rebellion."

"I know. And this is the bind you have placed me in. I have to either allow this treason to pass by or risk losing the North when I'm already engaged in a war with the Usurper Queen." Her hand still tingled, but she was tempted to slap him again. It seemed to be the only thing that would get him to speak.

"Marry her," proposed Jon. "Arrange a marriage for her far away from the North. Maybe Dorne will be far enough. I'll take the seat. I'll be Warden of the North and hold the North for you."

"I don't want you in the North. I want you by my side."

Jon Snow remained still and silent.

"And again you say nothing, Jon Snow." She considered slapping him again. "As your queen, I command you to answer me. Do you want to be by my side?"

"Yes!" He bowed his head. "Yes, I did, I do, but it is as you said, I cannot be. If Sansa has told Tyrion, then she has told others. We cannot be together because I would be king and you won't share the throne. You may love me, but you love the throne more."

That hurt, but it was also truth. She had been ready to sacrifice her love of Jon to get the throne, but Tyrion had shown her the way. Depending on what Jon wanted. "Do you want the throne? Once again, I ask as your queen. Do you want it? Or the North?"

"I don't want the Iron Throne. I don't want to be Warden of the North either, but for you, I will be."

She relaxed. Thank all the gods that Tyrion was sometimes as smart as he thought he was. "Then we can make it happen. You will swear an oath in front of the Weirwood with all nobles of the North watching that you forswear the throne. We will marry in that same ceremony and you will be my husband and you will swear by the old gods and the new to follow me as your queen. You will be my Prince Consort, named Warden of the North, and you will appoint Bran to rule in Winterfell in your absence."

Jon looked like she'd slapped him again. "I would gladly do all of that.

She sighed in relief. "Then I only need you to do one more thing."

"Name it, my queen."

"Kiss me."


	7. Teaser (Crossover)

While this thread is about alternate endings, this particular post is not an alternate ending. It's a crossover. It's short, just a teaser of an idea that's been bouncing around in my head. If you only want alternate endings, skip it.

**Teaser**

Sundas, the 17th of Last Seed, Year 201 of the 4th Era

Once again Ralof studied the girl across from him. It wasn't like there was much else to do tied up in the back of this cart. Listen to the clip clop of hoofbeats on cobblestone. Stare at the passing trees and wildlife. Exchange knowing glances with the true High King. Listen to the horsethief whine and complain. Study the girl.

She didn't belong with them. The braiding in her hair alone made that clear. Not that Nord girls didn't braid their hair, but it was far too fancy and intricate. She was the daughter of wealth. Perhaps a minor noble or a rich merchant's daughter fleeing an arranged marriage? Yet she was dressed in prisoner's sackcloth and covered from crown to feet in ashes. The soles of her feet were raw and bloody bad enough that her wounds would fester although it was doubtful she'd live long enough for that to happen.

The cart hit a washout and dropped at least a hand.

The girl startled awake. "Skoriot issi īlon?"

"I'm sorry lass. I don't speak that tongue"

"What language is that even?" asked the horsethief.

Ralof glanced at his king. Ulfric shrugged. "Nothing from around here." Ulfric was a learned man. If he didn't know, then what hope did they have?

"Tat yer tiholat Dothraki?" Doth thou wot Westerosi?" babbled the girl.

That sounded like two different languages from the lilt of them. One harsh and angry, one softer.

"What is that jibber gab?" asked the thief.

"How would I know? I'm just a soldier." He had no more idea where she was from than she had of what she'd been swept up in. She looked like a Nord with her pale blonde hair but no daughter of Skyrim would shiver so much on a warm summer's morning. Plus, her violet eyes and delicate features spoke of mer blood. Maybe a Breton?

She sighed deeply, brought up her bound hands and taped her chest. "Daenerys"

He tapped his own chest. "Ralof." It wouldn't change anything, but it was better than thinking about what would happen at the end of the ride.

.oOo.

**Dovah Queen**

Game of Thrones x Skyrim

* * *

I decided that I would continue this as its own story. I'm leaving this teaser here, but you can find Dovah Queen under my stories. I'll still be writing more Alt Endings as well. I at least want to finish off Humility & Patience, plus I have a couple of other ideas.


	8. Humility and Patience - Part 4

**Humility and Patience – Part 4**

Humility and Patience – Part 4

(The 4 Ds of prophesy: Doom, Death, Destruction and DOOM)

Daenerys could have reached Winterfell in only one day riding upon Drogon. However, riding with Jon it took a bit longer. Drogon wasn't burdened, having Jon ride with her was distracting. The flight was the most time they'd ever had just to themselves with no one watching. They started talking about how to handle Sansa, but before long they were just talking. The fire of attraction between them that had almost snuffed had returned. While they had shared some of their stories before, now they revisited those stories. Rather than the bare bones of their trials, they discussed the details that fleshed them out from simple facts to sharing intimacies. Jon explained all that he and Samwell Tarly had shared and why they were almost brothers. She talked about Jorah and the love that she'd been unable to return the way he wanted. The distance between them was gone, both literally with Jon holding on to her from behind as they flew, and emotionally. The wall that had grown between them from the revelation of Jon's ancestry melted. Inevitably with Jon riding so close behind her, his hands would wander, slowly teasingly, and before long they would be landed to have room to continue more comfortably. With the additional stops they made, it wasn't until morning of the third day that they finally sighted Winterfell.

She had Drogon make two low circles around Winterfell. There was no small amount of risk in confronting Sansa like this. Sansa's power was greatest here. With most of the Northern warriors marching south to King's Landing, the few soldiers remaining were likely to be quite loyal to Sansa. While Drogon could destroy Winterfell easily, he wouldn't be inside the walls of Winterfell with them. She knew that she was likely safe with Jon at her side. Even if Sansa could convince the Northerners to attack her, Jon was the former King of the North. Most Northerners would hesitate to move against him. However, most wasn't all. Sansa did have a following.

After circling she had Drogon land in the godswood near the weirwood tree. Jon slid down first and then helped her dismount. Beneath the weirwood waiting patiently was Bran Stark. He sat by himself in his wheeled chair, eerily patient. Neither she nor Jon really understood what Bran had become, but they both knew he was far more than he seemed. As they walked toward him, they joined hands.

"Well met, Danerys and Jon Targaryen." Bran spoke like an old man reflecting on days gone by.

Jon looked to her. Their eyes met briefly. Jon looked down and took a step back. His lack of talking had driven her almost mad, but this time she understood. He was deferring to her, letting her take the lead. He was a rare man. He didn't crave power. He needed something to serve. He had served the Night's Watch, the Living, and the North. Now, he was content to serve her, especially today when Sansa's treason must be addressed.

"Bran Stark." She met his gaze and didn't flinch as his eyes seemed to gaze into her soul. "Do you know why we have come here today?"

"You've come about Sansa, and to ask me to rule Winterfell in Jon's absence."

Perhaps in her focus on the Iron Throne, she'd been too hasty. Whatever Bran had become, it gave him knowledge, and knowledge was power. It disturbed her that she didn't understand him at all. "You are correct. What do you know about Sansa?"

"You feel she has betrayed you. It is both better and worse than you fear. Sansa only told Tyrion. She is not your most ardent supporter, but she hasn't been undermining you in the North. Unfortunately, while you are here chasing a rabbit, but you left a fox to roam free at your own home."

A fox left behind? Tyrion? He was the only one who knew. Was his advice a trap? No, she didn't believe it. She kept her eyes focused on Bran. If he could see inside her soul, let him see the dragon. "And now you're speaking in riddles, and making light of treason. Who is the fox?"

"Varys. A little bird was listening while you spoke to Tyrion. He knows everything, and has been sending ravens to selected nobles carrying the message that Jon Snow is Aegon Targaryen and the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms. He has also commanded one of his little birds to poison you.

Jon inhaled sharply and his hand went to his sword.

Daenerys laid a hand on Jon's shoulder even as she mentally cursed Varys. He wasn't a fox. He was a snake, a viper at her bosom, if this were true. She had no proof Bran told the truth, but she found it easy to believe. Of course, those were the best kind of lies. For now she would act as if it were true and investigate quietly when she returned to Dragonstone. She did have foodtasters. Her handmaidens chosen from her Khalasar and from freed slaves were loyal to her to a fault, but she had grown lax. She had trusted the kitchens at Dragonstone and not everything had been tested first. For that matter, Varys was slippery enough to get around foodtasters.

If Bran was also telling the truth about Sansa, her treason was minor in comparison. Yet, if Sansa had kept her mouth shut, Varys would never have found out… No, there was still no comparison. "You know so many things. If you knew Varys was committing treason, why am I just now learning about it from you?"

Bran tilted his head slightly, in a very birdlike manner. Or was that raven-like? "By the time I knew, the arrow had already flown. You were already on the way to meet me. Even if I sent a raven, you would have beaten its flight. I waited here for you, and now you know."

She felt like her strings were being pulled, but Bran was doing it so smoothly, she couldn't fault him. Even if he had sent a raven, Varys would have likely received the message and been forewarned. "And are you prepared to rule Winterfell in Jon's name and my service?"

"It is why I have been waiting here these past few days, my queen."

She wasn't happy at how Bran seemed to have maneuvered himself into ruling Winterfell. "Tell me true, Bran Stark, what do you want?"

"I would like you to spare my sister. House Stark has served you well. We are not your enemies. Sansa has suffered greatly. She was used as a pawn in the Game of Thrones, and doesn't want to be used again – but you have already decided to do that. I would like you to do as you promised, break the wheel, don't become the wheel yourself. I would like you to marry Jon. With your two joined I see an end to the wars in Westeros and joy for both of you. I have even glimpsed your children, a son and a daughter, not just the dragons you will hatch."

"Liar!" She knew better. The witch spoke true. "My courses have stopped. I'm barren."

Bran's mouth twitched. "Never trust a witch, especially one who is your enemy."

Jon snorted beside her. He had given her similar advice in the past.

"The past is an open book to me, but I only see glimpses of the future. I've seen the children of your marriage three times. They will be important, somehow… years from now…" Bran drifted off staring off into space.

She frowned. Truth or lies? She looked to Jon. "Do you believe this?"

"I believed Sansa. I thought I knew her. When I knew Bran he was a young lad who would rather be climbing than anything. He has changed more than any of us, but yes, I believe he spoke the truth as he knew it. Would it be a bad thing to have children?"

She shook her head. "No, it would not," but she didn't trust it. In all things there was a price. That much she knew.

Bran lurched forward. "The Children," he gasped.

A part of her wanted to hear, another scoffed at this being too well staged. "What about them?"

"Not your children, the Children of the Forest. I almost saw something, but they blocked me." You asked me what I wanted. I want you to make the kingdoms of man strong again, because the Night King is not the worst enemy of mankind. Do what you have already decided to do with Sansa, but don't dwell on it. You both have more important things to do." Bran's head dropped to his chest and his eyes closed. He looked even more frail than before.

Jon frowned. "You asked me if I believed him. I don't just believe his words. I believe in him."

Daenerys nodded. For Jon it was just that simple. She cherished him for that, because he had the same belief in her. She wasn't sure she believed that Bran was that honest, that he wasn't out for something more for himself. However, she believed that if he did lie, he was a smart liar and cloaked his lies within truths. Better to act as if his words might be true, and seek out other sources of information to verify his claims.

Unfortunately, there was still the matter of Sansa to deal with first.


	9. Mhysha's Commands

**Mhysha's Commands**

Grey Worm hurried to the top of the shattered Red Keep with a troop of men. Everyone had heard Drogon's bellow. He didn't know what it portended, but something had obviously happened. It was surprising the Red Keep still stood. They were forced to scramble across rubble and even blocks of stone as they made their way up. The screams they heard spurred them as they leapt and ran up the broken stairwells.

At the top the door stood open wide. Inside where two men he knew well. He had chosen them as the personal bodyguards for Queen Daenerys because of their skill, fearlessness and unquestioned loyalty. Fresh Dung was the larger of the two and tall for an Unsullied. He was widely respected as the greatest hand-to-hand fighter who had survived the Battle of Winterfell. He turned slowly and came to attention.

All-for-her wasn't as skilled, but he was one of the most fanatically loyal of all Unsullied. He was repeatedly stabbing the corpse of a man who was now barely recognizable as Jon Snow. All-for-her was splattered with blood up to midthighs. He was the one who was screaming, there were no words, just raging cries better suited to a beast than a man.

"Attention!" commanded Grey Worm."

All-for-her whirled around and for a moment seemed ready to attack. Then he snapped to attention.

"Fresh Dung, what happened here?" asked Grey Worm.

"This vile thing, this traitor, he slew Mhysha!" His voice rumbled with rage.

"Slew?" interrupted All-for-her. "The greatest light the world has ever seen, and now she's gone. Snuffed out by a western master."

Somewhere inside Grey Worm, he felt something breaking. First Missendei, and now Mhysha. He knew how All-for-her felt, but he wouldn't break down like that. "Control yourself! You are Unsullied."

"Why?!" demanded All-for-her. "We were hers. What are we without her?"

"Respect her memory! Silence." He pointed to Fresh Dung. "Did you see this? And where does she lay?"

"We did not see it. We were stationed outside. Jon Snow was on the trusted list. We all know they were lovers. He asked to go in alone. We let him. We came in when Drogon roared. The dragon flew off with Mhysha's body. Jon Snow confessed. He said, 'It had to be done.' We both killed him."

All-for-her stood at attention now, shaking, but he stood.

Grey Worm nodded in acceptance, but also confusion. What did he do now? "Did Mhysha give any orders to you this morning?"

"No," both responded.

"Then her last command still stands. I am general over her armies." That made it his responsibility to decide what to do. Except that he had never felt so lost. They didn't even have a body to burn.

"Her last command." All-for-her laughed brokenly. "You remember that, but tell me, Grey Worm, do you remember her first command?"

Grey Worm cast his mind back. Mhysha hadn't given any other commands today. Then he realized what All-for-her meant. Not her first command today, her very first command. "Kill the masters."

"Kill the masters," agreed All-for-her. "These Western lords, they're all masters, every one of them. They are just like the masters who surrendered in Meereen. They surrender, but they don't give up. They fight and betray and kill in the night like cowards. Mhysha believed the best in people. She kept believing the masters, as they killed us in the night. These Western lords are just masters with a different name. Now they've killed her. What will you do to avenge her?"

Grey Worm could feel the same pain and rage that All-for-her felt inside him, but what should he do? He heard mutters beside him and knew that the Unsullied would be all too ready to go to war again in Mhysha's memory. What would Mhysha want? What would Missendei want?

He remembered Missendei standing on that wall with the smug cruel Western queen. He remembered when he had finally earned his rank. As with all Unsullied, he had gone to the slave market where he found a female slave with an infant. Then as the mother watched, he'd stabbed her baby through. The fat gloating face of his master had the same smug cruelty in it. He knew what Missendei wanted. It had been her last word, "Dracarys."

"We will honor Mhysha's life with our own. We will kill the masters! Every Western lord will die. We will follow the example of Mhysha. Cities that welcome us and overthrow their masters, will join us. The ones that resist will perish in fire and blade. Summon the Khals! We march to war!"


End file.
